Succubi Chapter 229. The Banquet III
Succubi Chapter 229. The Banquet III
Cassian’s jaw tightened.
Mirena, recovering quickly, leaned closer to him. “Please, Cassian. Tonight should be pleasant.” Then she looked at Alyra with soft eyes. “Lady Veyne, I truly hoped we could talk peacefully. I know many people misunderstand what happened between us.”
Alyra smiled. Cold. “I’m sure they do.”
Mirena lowered her gaze again. “I never wanted to hurt you.”
Ah… The universal song of people who stepped on your foot and then cried because your toes made them feel guilty.
Alyra’s smile didn’t move.
Cassian placed his hand over Mirena’s, protective. “Mirena has endured enough gossip.”
I tilted my head slightly. “Gossip is troublesome,” I agreed.
Cassian looked at me.
I met his eyes. “Especially when it comes from truth wearing perfume.”
The nearby fan-cough happened again.
This time, from two directions.
Alyra’s hand tightened on my arm.
Cassian’s face cooled.
Mirena’s expression trembled.
Actually trembled.
Fake? Mostly.
Effective? Probably on weaker men.
Her eyes glistened slightly as she looked at me, voice soft. “Mr Blackthorn, do you dislike me already? We’ve just met.”
There it was.
Direct attention.
Fragile challenge.
If I said yes, I looked cruel.
If I said no, she gained ground.
So I gave her a regretful smile.
“Dislike is too heavy a word for someone I’ve just met, Lady Sol.” Her lashes fluttered. “I simply prefer not to judge people too quickly.”
Then I let my eyes move briefly to Cassian. “Or too conveniently.”
Cassian inhaled quietly.
Alyra turned her face away for half a second. She was definitely hiding a smile now.
That mean I was earning my three thousand.
Cassian stepped a little closer. “You are very confident for a guest.”
“And you are very interested in a random man,” I replied smoothly.
That landed.
Cassian’s eyes flashed.
Around us, conversations tried to pretend they were still happening, but several nobles were definitely listening now. A man near the wine table had stopped with his glass halfway to his mouth. A woman in green watched us through her fan with open delight. Noble drama was apparently free entertainment, and tonight I was the unexpected performer.
Cassian smiled again, but this time it was sharper. “Veyne always had unusual taste.”
Alyra’s gaze hardened.
Before she could answer, I placed my free hand lightly over hers on my arm.
Small touch.
Public.
Possessive enough to count.
Calming enough to look affectionate.
“I agree,” I said.
Cassian blinked.
Alyra looked at me.
I smiled at her, not him. “Her taste is rare.”
For a second, Alyra forgot the room.
Just a second.
Her eyes softened, and the blush from earlier almost returned.
Then she recovered.
She tilted her chin, expression elegant and untouchable. “Thank you, Evan.”
Using my first name.
Mirena noticed. Her smile tightened this time.
Cassian noticed too, and irritation flickered across his face before he smoothed it down.
“So,” Cassian said, “how long have you two known each other?”
Alyra answered before I could, exactly as planned. “Long enough.”
Mirena tilted her head. “How romantic. Though I must say, Lady Veyne, this is surprising. You never introduced him before.”
Alyra’s smile turned sweeter. “Not everything precious needs public display.”
Mirena’s eyes moved to me again. “And you, Mr Blackthorn? Are you comfortable being kept hidden?” Trying to make me look like Alyra’s secret, not her choice.
I smiled gently at Mirena. “Some doors are not open to everyone, Lady Sol.”
Her expression paused.
“And I never minded being welcomed through the right one.”
Alyra’s fingers trembled once under my hand.
Cassian looked like he wanted to punch me politely.
The music swelled in the background.
Perfect timing.
Alyra turned her body slightly toward me. “Evan,” she said softly, “would you dance with me?”
The battlefield moved.
I bowed my head just enough. “With pleasure, my lady.”
I offered my hand.
She placed hers in mine.
Cassian stood frozen for half a second, trapped between pride and manners. Mirena clung to him, eyes still on me, trying to measure whether I was a flirt, a fool, or a threat.
I gave her one last polite smile.
Let her wonder.
Then I led Alyra toward the dance floor.
Calm.
That was the first rule.
Nobles could smell panic the way wolves smelled blood. Maybe better. Wolves at least had dignity. Nobles smelled one nervous twitch and suddenly ten fans opened, five smiles sharpened, and three family lines prepared gossip for dessert.
So I kept my face smooth.
Inside?
My brain was absolutely taking notes like a desperate student before an exam.
The dance floor wasn’t too crowded, but enough couples moved across it to form a pattern. I watched their feet, their turns, their spacing. Not too complex. Formal, yes. Elegant, yes. But not impossible.
Two steps left.
One step right.
Turn.
Pause.
Shift.
Follow the rhythm, not the person.
Nice.
I loved how quickly I could adapt.
Maybe that was my real talent. Not royal blood. Not even Pride. Just the ability to be thrown into ridiculous situations and somehow act like I had planned to be there all along.
Noble banquet fake boyfriend mission? Fine.
Apparently tonight I was a dancer too.
We reached the edge of the dance floor, and Alyra turned to face me. The chandelier light spilled over her hair and shoulders, catching the jewels at her throat. Her expression was calm, but up close I noticed the small tension near her mouth.
Then her eyes widened slightly.
“I forgot to ask if you can dance or not.”
I almost laughed.
Instead, I offered my hand properly, palm up. “I can.”
Her gaze dropped to my hand. Then back to my face. “You can?”
“Don’t worry,” I said, smiling faintly. “I’m good at improvising.”
Alyra stared at me for half a second longer, like she was deciding whether that was reassuring or horrifying.
Then she placed her hand in mine.
The music shifted at exactly the right moment, strings lifting softly through the hall. I placed my other hand at her waist, careful and controlled. Not too low. Not too loose. Not too stiff.
Alyra’s breath caught.
Tiny.
Almost nothing.
But I felt it beneath my palm.
We moved.
One step.
Then another.